#@little-snails-log

[the-most-humble-blog]

<!-- BEGIN TRANSMISSION --> <div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta reverence-level="acolyte recognition + pretender rebuke"> <script>ARCHIVE_TAG="ACOLYTE_GRATITUDE_DECLARATION_001"</script>

🛐 A MOMENT OF RECOGNITION

---

I would like to extend my earnest, measured, and mythically-grounded appreciation to two acolytes whose reblogs have not gone unnoticed.

This isn’t just a signal boost. It’s divine relay. You lit the beacon when others scrolled past. You reblogged the forbidden light and aimed it directly into the eyes of the nearly-gone.

Let me be clear: Your reblogs are resurrections. Each one, a flare sent skyward for those who put down their pens because some unworthy pretender told them they weren’t ready.

And how do I know a pretender?

Because I’ve seen them. The self-declared “creators,” the “mentors,” the cloaked academics who tighten velvet ropes around hopeful necks and call it standards.

They gatekeep wisdom. They deflect power. They discourage brilliance that doesn’t wear their robes.

You? You did the opposite. You let my signal pierce the algorithm and find the bleeding ones. The ones too good to be accepted. Too wild to be published. Too true to be promoted.

So this is your shoutout.

@kittythesnugglycat

@little-snails-reblog

You didn’t just reblog. You helped build Olympus. You passed the torch knowing it might burn. You gave my myth a mirror and proved that even in this void, some still believe.

From one who will never beg for applause— thank you. From one who will never trade scrolltrap for safety— I see you. And from one who’s been hated by gods, but never abandoned by the faithful— you are now written into the archive.

Acolyte. Builder. Fire-wielder.

Whatever comes next? You helped summon it.

</div> <!-- END TRANSMISSION [SCROLL-REVERENCE LOCKED // NO-WIPE] -->

[chipped-chimera]

Shrimp Inspector 🦐👀

[jayparked]

once again i ask for people to not copy my work and to respect my boundaries in terms of not wanting minors or people who interact with nsfw riki content to interact with me or my work

[kayharrisons]

Will you go, lassie, go? [Remmick x fem!Reader] [18+] [1 of 11]

Remmick has been drifting for a decade now, aimlessly passing from one town to the next as he hunts and feeds and fucks and-

And. And. And.

One could go mad after a while with all those ands.

Loneliness threatens to consume him, to pull him right over the brink and into insanity.

Until, that is, he hears a voice sweeter than a nightingale's and with a haunting, melodic pain that buries itself deep in his chest and takes root there.

Until, that is, he meets you.

A/N: hey guys!! My first attempt at a Sinners fic o o p I LOVED the movie sm and Remmick was just 😩 😩 Jack O'Connell the man that you are fr!! Anyway, idk if I'll write a LOT for Sinners, my brain rot is still very much Romulus focused BUT HEY have this lil two shot for now! Scottish Reader x Remmick oh no oh DEAAAAAAR!!! I'm not a native Gaelic speaker by any means (I know a couple basic words lol), so any future Gaelic sentences will be in italics! This fic is set some time in the 20s before Sinners! Next chapter will be up soon hopefully!! Apologies if there's any mistakes we rock and roll buckaroo over here ✌️

Series warnings: younger woman (19-21) x older man (literal vampire), blood, biting, sexual acts, mentions of immigration and racist/xenophobic attitudes towards Scottish and Irish communities, colonisation mentions (Ireland in Remmick's past), manipulative Remmick, naive Reader, Remmick was at one point Jack the Ripper 💀

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Time.

It's a funny thing. Especially to someone like him, to someone with this affliction.

It both passes in the blink of an eye and goes by slower than those snails that used to infest his mother's garden when he was a boy. He can't remember her face much, but he remembers how she used to rant and rave over the little creatures as they ruined vegetables and plants she'd oh so painstakingly grown.

He's had many families over the centuries. Many mothers, many brothers, sisters.

The faces blend, sometimes, when you're as old as he.

His birth mother had eyes like his, he thinks. She had his laugh.

He recalls having been told, frequently, that he takes after his father.

He wonders if that was before or after his skull was cleaved in two. He can't recall his father's face before it was split in half like a log for the fire.

Fire. Warmth.

He misses that.

Misses sitting with his brothers and sisters around the hearth as their mother hummed lullabies in their native tongue. Síthmaith had been his favourite of the bunch, his precious sister only nine when her throat had been cut to the bone.

Remmick had been the oldest of the bunch.

He'd failed them, and this, he thinks, is retribution.

He's never done well without people to care for, could never cope knowing people were sad. His mother used to smile and call him her mo mhuirnin whenever she'd catch him being kind.

The last time in his human life that he'd been kind, he had invited a sobbing stranger inside of his home, a frail woman begging for shelter against Protestant brutes, could he please help her?

The children hadn't survived the turning. They never did, according to the woman.

His mother had taken one look at her dead children and screamed an almighty roar of agony before walking out into the sunlight.

Remmick can't remember his mother's voice anymore, but he remembers that scream.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The centuries passed. He spent it learning, teaching himself.

He occupied himself with hobbies, with history, and eventually with song.

That was the one thing he'd never allowed himself to forget over the years. The act of putting pen to paper and letting pain spill out as ink, of taking the time to sit back and think of melodies, of chords and notes.

He loves to sing.

Sometimes, he can still hear his mother when he sings, can hear his siblings laughter around the fire.

There is rarely anyone around to hear him, however.

New families come and go; not everyone is suited to this way of life, a lot lack survival instinct he's found. Lovers are there for an hour or two or three, the ones that linger end up drained upon the bed, his songs still lingering in their dead ears.

Perhaps one time he'd been overzealous in Whitechapel, had earned himself a nasty moniker and had had to hastily retreat to the countryside for a few years all while the public pondered over the identity of this Ripper fellow.

Animal blood wasn't quite the same as a human's, it must be said.

It's rather like drinking tar, he's come to find. Unpleasant and thick down his throat. Only worth doing in a pinch.

He hasn't met anyone else who's even tried it.

The others he'd been with on the ship, the ones who had burnt brighter than the sun, had rolled their eyes at him for that admission.

Lions were not expected to eat plants and nothing more, so why should they?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He hasn't eaten in weeks.

He could. Easily. Easy pickings don't even begin to describe half of the people he's come across as he wanders the earth.

New York had been ripe with bodies, and he'd indulged himself more than necessary during the ten years he had spent there.

But his legs were leading him south. And who was he to go against them? Taken him this far, hadn't they?

He is curious to see the rest of the continent, to meet people, hear stories, to rebuild that which he's lost time and time again.

He can help people, like he used to, he can give them a family, can take all their petty human squabbles and differences and turn it into something good, can't he?

He hums to himself, a melody he has hazy memories of his mother singing. The words are lost to him now, taken from him by time, but he recalls the melody, at least.

Over and over, he hums, his fingers brushing over brick and stone and cold hard suburbia, before eventually his fingers run over trees and leaves and life itself.

He never did like cities much.

Remmick hums into the dimming light of the night, with no expectations of a response, an answer, of divine intervention.

He gets one anyway.

A little miracle in its own right.

"-the blooming heather, will ye go, lassie, go?"

His blood ignites in his veins just as brightly and fiery as it had the day he'd been turned into this.

If he had a pulse, he is sure it would be racing in his cold dead chest. If he could blush, he's sure the tips of his ears would be a burning red.

Your voice creeps through the trees like that of a fine mist, and it settles over him like dew on grass during a summer's morning. Refreshing, soothing, anchoring.

When was the last time he had felt anchored?

Voices, he's found, have a way of carrying stories, of harbouring emotions in a way that sometimes merely speaking doesn't even begin to encompass.

Sadness, anger, love, lust, loss-

It all sounded beautiful, in song.

Your voice reaches out like that of a beautiful plant, wraps around his soul like vines in the forest, takes root upon his very being like that of the strongest of trees.

Nature personified.

His pace quickens, the damp grass and dirt cliging to his bare feet, his hair sticking to his forehead.

He only wishes he was more presentable for you. Remmick is far from vain, but he's certain he's about to waltz into the den of perfection, an alter of beauty that would put Aphrodite herself to shame.

And he finds it.

Your back is to him, your hair is down loose around your shoulders. Your blouse is a few sizes too big and clings to your shoulders, your waist cinched by your skirt. You sway softly, like that of a flower in the breeze. Your fingers move effortlessly over the strings of your guitar, your voice having lowered to that of an airy hum.

He damn near almost collapses at the sight before him. Of such beauty here before him, untouched by the world outside of this forest. He's not a religious man, hasn't been in centuries, but Remmick is struck by the urge to collapse by your feet and cling to your skirts as if you were a Saint of utmost divinity, one he would swear his life and soul to.

Such natural, effortless beauty, and he hasn't even seen your face yet. Persephone can weep for all he cares.

A branch snaps beneath his feet, and your hair whips your face as you whirl around to face him.

Oh.

Oh.

Remmick staggers back a step, unusual for someone with supernatural grace on their side.

You're more radiant than a sunrise on a winter's day, more beautiful than poetry itself.

He could weep in your presence.

"Can I help you, sir?" you ask, pausing your guitar strumming and setting the instrument aside, leaning it against the tree beside you.

Your accent isn't from here. Scottish, the highlands, he thinks. He smiles at the sound, at the knowledge that he won't have to use that goddamn ridiculous Yank accent that helps him blend in.

"Aye, lass'," he nods, hands in his pockets as he steps closer. You watch him with a furrowed brow, with complete and utter confusion across your radiant face.

He stops short of you, leaning back against a tree, crossing his legs at the ankles as he studies you.

His eyes...

You straighten a hairs breadth, the same way one does when they spy a wolf in the distance, when you know a predator is watching you.

Remmick merely hums, unbothered at your reaction, even as his eyes gleam unnaturally in the darkness of the night.

"You can help me somethin' fierce, darlin'."

You smile, a touch uncertainly, your head cocked as you patiently wait for him to explain whatever it is he needs help with.

Remmick can only smile.

[royalarchivist]

Phil: I still stand by, if I get a snail, I'm gonna fail RP and log out.

Sneeg: I don't think they're gonna give you one just like, unsolicited. Especially 'cuz you've threatened to not play? 🙄

Phil: [Cracks up] I've played these games before! I've done it before, man! I genuinely probably need therapy, but I'm just putting it off! [Laughs]

Sneeg: How do you explain to a therapist that you're attached to an Egg from Minecraft though? 🤨

Phil: Ok, so there's this server, right? And it's ran by my friend, and– It's– brings in people from various different cultures and languages, and then– and then he decided: "Oh, you know what would be really cool to keep people playing? And invested? What if we give them a fcking EGG?"

Phil's Chayanne and Lullah emotes were made by @strawbekka.

[ Full Transcript ↓ ]

—

Phil: I still stand by, if I get a snail, I'm gonna fail RP and log out.

Sneeg: I don't think they're gonna give you one–

Phil: Good

Sneeg: –just like, unsolicited. Especially 'cuz you've threatened to not play? 🙄 Um...

Phil: [Cracks up]

Sneeg: I don't think they're... I don't think they're gonna gamble on that.

Phil: I'm not doin' this NPC, like– actor– like, thing on server again! I've played these games before!

Sneeg: [Laughs]

Phil: I've played these g– I've done it before, man! I genuinely probably need therapy, but I'm just putting it off! [Laughs] For- for fckin'–

Sneeg: How do you explain to a therapist that you're attached to an Egg from Minecraft though?

Phil: Ok, so there's this server, right? And it's ran by my friend, and– it's–

Sneeg: [Overlapping with Phil] There's this server– and then there was an Egg, with a glock. [Laughs]

Phil: –Brings in people from various different cultures and languages, and then– and then he decided: "Oh, you know what would be really cool to keep people playing? And invested? What if we give them a fcking EGG?"

Sneeg: Attachment. [Laughs] Attachment to something!

Phil: "What if we give them an Egg that- that has wants and needs? And you need to look after it."

Sneeg: And a personality!

Phil: Yeah, "And a personality, and- [stammers] and quirks and- and–"

Sneeg: [Overlapping with Phil] And its life's in danger, people– things were trying to kill it.

Phil: Yeah. And things keep trying to kill it, and you have to save it, you are its– you are its only s– hope.

Sneeg: If it dies, it's your fault. It's your fault! Your fault. [Laughs]

Phil: [In unison with Sneeg] Your fault! Your entire audience of thousands of people will be PISSED if you don't care! If you don't care, you are a MONSTER!

Sneeg: [Overlapping with Phil] And they're so valid, they're so valid 'cuz it's true.

Phil: [Laugh] Imagine joining my stream, and I'm just like reading a bedtime story to a little Egg.

Sneeg: [Cracks up]

Phil: Like– [Laughs] Like, what a CRAZY way to come back!

Sneeg: "Oh, my favorite vanilla Minecraft streamer Philza Minecraft's on– playing Minecraft today, let's see what he's doing!" [Voice cracks as he tries not to laugh]

Phil: Yeah, "What's- what's Kusump?" [QSMP]

Sneeg: –and you're like: [Leaning into his mic] "Humpty Dumpty." [Laughs]

Phil: "What's Kusump? What's this? Why's he got an Egg, and why is it just holding up a sign that just says 'Food'?"

[minecraft-sideblog-tm]

I love that the snails are just this season's little throughline excuse for Grian to do silly little things to his neighbor's bases. Nooo, noo I didn't deteriorate your lighthouse, or put snail features on your airship, or briefly commandeer your shop/train, that was the snails! Ah, those pesky little fellas, always causing some shenanigans wherever they go. Yes, there is some warped wood logs and fences in my inventory, don't worry about it

[seabeck]

Went on an adventure today. The heat and the UV index were awful (winter come back pls I miss you) so we stuck to shorter adventures but we still saw lots of excellent organisms.

Left to right:

Largest yellow spotted millpede I’ve ever encountered

Wild pings! Horned butterwort to be specific. They grow on rocky seeps with little to no soil.

Mushroom shaped liverwort

Beetle

Very interesting garter snake. I saw a similar one a few miles by crow from this one. Small regional variant?

Big feather, either a raven or turkey vulture (my hand is 7 inches long from tip of middle finger to wrist)

Candy lichen accentuating the lines on this log

Northwest Hesperian snail and Anthoceros fusiformis, a species of hornwort that is listed as VU

Oregon sedum

[fatehbaz]

thank you.

endemic species. among "largest (terrestrial) salamanders on planet" (only four species in genus Dicamptodon, only in PNW/Norcal; the other three live on the coast).

isolated, small, limited distribution range. a "rainforest creature" away from the Pacific coast, iconic emblem of a relatively not-well-known and rare terrestrial biome/ecoregion ("inland temperate rainforest").

shares habitat/range with other dramatic creatures (grizzly bear, black bear, gray wolf, wolverine, fisher, lynx, puma, mountain caribou, moose, elk, inland tailed frog, Chinook salmon, lots of snails and slugs and ferns and cedar and hemlock).

superlative larvae (aquatic larvae swim around in cold, clear, steep, small, fast-flowing mountain streams with lots of little waterfalls, rather than typical still-water ponds/pools like many other salamanders; many larvae are neotenic, reaching reproductive maturity while retaining gills/paddle-tail, achieving massive sizes, swimming around in the little stream in pools beneath waterfalls like a dragon).

that thread shows a (large, maybe neotenic, maybe close-to-transforming) larva, but you should see the terrestrial adults. (larvae can be dense in some streams, but adults can be hard to see. i've met ecologists who'd never seen a terrestrial adult. much of their distribution range is designated roadless area and in rugged topography of forested mountains, so the streams can be hard to access. the streams can be partially subterranean, and the adults could be underground, hiding under layers of moss mats and cedar debris and tangled sticks and logs and stones and mud, so i go out at night when it's raining.)

they're so pretty. glistening gold, amber, brown, sometimes purple-ish.

typical larva compared to a 32-centimeter-long neotenic adult with larval morphology:

this is one i found crawling in this big cavern space beneath this massive log-jam of dozens of huge cedar logs, but then (incredibly) found again weeks later in the same spot (not the only time i've seen this happen, but stuck firmly in my sentimental memory because of the cave-crawling and there was a thunderstorm):

this is the longest one i'd ever seen (the heaviest/largest i'd seen was gravid and living only one hundred meters away in the same little stream, and she was one of those who i encountered more than once):

[blues824]

Hello! I loved that fairest in the land fic, and wondered if you can do one but with the vice-housewardens (maybe replace Jamil with Floyd cause you already did him)?

Gender-neutral!Reader. Also, there is no Vice-Housewarden of Savanaclaw

ColorMyTree is open! Feel free to leave a message on my Christmas tree. It’s free, so no money required. I also set it so that you don’t have to log in.

Trey Clover

He had invited you over as you stated that you had a craving for cookies. Well, as your boyfriend, it would break his heart if you decided to look elsewhere… he was just joking. However, why go anywhere else when he can satisfy your hankerings and cravings?

Anyway, as he prepared some chocolate chip cookies, he noticed that you were staring quite a bit. It wasn’t unusual for him to catch you staring at him. He smiled and handed you a handful of chocolate chips before speaking up inquisitively. “What are you staring at, sweetheart?”

You smiled before sponding, “Only at the fairest of them all.”

Well, how about that? You cheeky thing. Trey just smiled and put the chocolate chip cookies in the oven to bake before pressing a kiss to your forehead and shaking his head at your antics. You were lucky that you were such a cutie.

Jade Leech

You were helping him build a new terrarium, mostly just listening as he ranted to you about a new hiking trail he explored. He saw that you weren’t really paying attention, but he did not pay much mind since you were still allowing him to talk passionately about his hobby.

However, it was when he asked you a question about your day and you did not answer that he grew a bit concerned. He smiled as he placed another snail in the tank before turning to you and speaking to you.

“My pearl, I believe your mind has escaped you.” “Yes… to you, Mr. Fairest in the Land and Seas.”

How charming you could be. Jade felt his heart beat a bit harder as he leaned over to press a kiss to your cheek. He continued to work on the terrarium, but his mind kept drifting off to what you had called him.

Floyd Leech

The large eel had been in a sour mood all day, so Azul approved the request to have him take a day off from the Lounge. So, Floyd immediately went to Ramshackle where his lovely significant other was waiting for him. Upon seeing you, he immediately brightened up and tackled you to the bed for some cuddles.

So here you were, being pressed against the mattress as Floyd burrowed himself into your chest. You were running your hand soothingly through his hair, giving him his daily affirmations as he sat quietly and listened. “You know… you’re so handsome, baby. You might be the Fairest of Them All.”

His mood immediately spiked. “You really think so, Shrimpy?” At your nod, he smiled a sharp, toothy grin as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. It may seem like a little thing to do, but Floyd was constantly told that he was annoying or that he was intimidating. To know that there was one person who viewed him in a good light did wonders.

Rook Hunt

When put up against Rook, your compliments are outshined by his. He absolutely loved to shower you in love and affection, and he rarely ever gave you room to reciprocate. After all, he was a lover of love, and he wanted to treat you like the royalty that he believed you were.

However, one day, you walked in on him napping, so you decided to finally get your ‘revenge’. You let compliment after compliment fall out of your mouth as you believed your beloved hunter was asleep. Little did you know, he was wide awake and ready to receive your verbal love.

“Oh, my darling… do you really think all that about moi?” He asked as he sat up.

You nodded and smiled, “Yes. I also think you’re the Fairest in the Land.”

Could this day get any better for him? His significant other had just proclaimed their undying admiration for him! He could very much die right there and be happy. He smothered you in kisses, leaving you with lipstick marks all over your face.

Lilia Vanrouge

As your boyfriend, he took it upon himself to help you with any assignments you were struggling with. After all, he was there when it was all discovered. He was the best person you could possibly go to when you were having trouble.

Anyway, you were sitting on his bed as he explained a timeline of Twisted Wonderland history when he noticed that you seemed to be zoned out. He poked your cheek teasingly as he recaptured your attention. “You don’t seem to be paying attention, darling.”

You were a bit embarrassed as you looked up at him, and you explained, “Sorry, baby. I was just lost in my head… but I think you’re truly the Fairest of Them All.”

High praise coming from his significant other. Lilia was a bit surprised at first before he broke out into a smile and patted the top of your head, calling you ‘cute’ before going back to the lesson. He was in a very giddy mood for the rest of the day, and the other Diasomnia members notice it clearly.

[yandereonepieceimagines]

You brought me on an idea with a little bit of a crack/funny scene with the baby 5 ask xD What about the reader, stumbling into those Den Den Mushi moments, where it rings? Here is at least one moment that I think about:

Crocodile who tries to reach Mr.3, but is met with the reader exploring Little Garden, and is the one who stumbled on the wax house instead of Sanji. Bonus if she instantly has beef with him.

But can you do something similar with Doflamingo, King and… Akainu too, maybe? Really like how you seem to imagine our magma man to be like as a yandere!

-----------------

Omg even Akainu! xD That makes me happy! This one was tough, but I gave it my best shot! I actually picture the reader being pretty strong. Definitely tougher than most of the infamous pirates from the Grand Line and beyond. But compared to the true heavy hitters of the New World, she’s still a bit below average. So honestly, she either doesn’t realize what she’s getting herself into or she just doesn’t care.

Crocodile, though, is an exception. Unlike most characters, I genuinely feel he was introduced way too early in the series and Luffy was rocking some serious plot armor to pull off that ultimate win. In my mind, Crocodile is still stronger than the reader. I always try to let that show whenever I’m writing scenes with him.

----------------

Donquixote Doflamingo

The trees of the island bled red and gold. Their leaves rustling like paper caught in wind. It was always autumn here. Perpetual twilight, where the sky stretched heavy with bronze clouds and the ground was layered in thick, crunchy carpets of fallen foliage. You had landed only hours ago. Your small but dependable ship anchored in a quiet inlet where no marine nor pirate eyes would pry. The island wasn’t charted on most maps, but you weren’t most travelers.

You weren’t searching for anything in particular. Sometimes, the Grand Line simply offered places that drew you in like a whispered dare. And so... With your satchel strapped and weapon sheathed, you had wandered into the woods until you found it.

A log cabin, old but sturdy, tucked beneath the boughs of a crooked sycamore. Moss crept up the sides, and its windows reflected the orange canopy above. No smoke in the chimney. No footprints around. But the door had been left ajar, as if someone left in a hurry.

You pushed inside.

It was quiet. Functional. Whoever lived here had cleared out in haste. Half-eaten rations still on the counter, a coat flung across a chair and a Den Den Mushi blinking silently in a wooden bowl.

You turned around to leave, but then it rang. "Pururururu."

The snail jerked further to life, its face twitching into a grin far too amused for the stillness of the room. The sudden noise startled you. Not because it was loud, but because it felt so out of place in the quiet gloom of the cabin. Like the room itself had been waiting for that moment.

You stared. The Den Den Mushi’s features animated as if it already knew something you didn’t. Its little eyestalks twitched in your direction, looking at you.

Then, with a faint frown, you picked it up.

"Hello? Owner of this Den Den Mushi isn't here right now."

"Well, well," came a smooth, languid voice on the other end, practically dripping with theatrical charm. "And who might you be, hm? I didn’t know we’d upgraded from grunts to goddesses."

You blinked, confused. The line was unusually clear. His voice had that honeyed tone that suggested he was far too used to being listened to.

Then you sighed.

"Alright? Anyhow... Whoever this is, your person is not here. And neither am I, for long."

A pause followed. Long enough that you almost set the transmitter down again.

Then a short laugh. "Oho? You’re not going to play along? And here I thought I was being charming."

"You're not," you replied dryly. "You sound like a man who talks too much and listens too little."

Another beat of silence followed, but it felt heavier now. Charged. As if he hadn’t expected to be dismissed so quickly. You imagined him leaning forward, just slightly, intrigued by your disinterest.

"Now, now, don’t be so cruel," the voice said again, the velvet edge thinning, revealing something less polished beneath. "At least tell me your name. Surely that’s not too much to ask?"

"No," you said again, sharper this time.

"Oh? Then maybe just a hint?"

"…Still no."

A pause. It lingered longer this time. Then he let out a low chuckle, but there was a new note to it. Something colder and more deliberate.

"You know, people don’t usually trouble me like this. It’s bad manners."

"Then consider this an education," you muttered.

And with a tired breath, your patience gone and your interest long since vanished, you clicked the line shut.

Unceremoniously. And completely unmoved.

Far away, in the lavish interior of a certain sky-lit palace where the sun's beams fell across velvet furniture, a tall figure lounged in a throne-like chair. Doflamingo stared at the now-silent Den Den Mushi. The curve of his lips still twisted in a smile, but his eyes from behind his distinct sunglasses had narrowed. There was a stillness in the room. A coiled quiet that belied the tension blooming behind that smirk.

He tilted his head back before letting out a small chuckle that echoed like shattered glass through the vaulted space. he is far too delighted for someone who had just been so thoroughly dismissed. But the sound was hollow, yet razor-edged. Amused, yes, but in that way predators are amused when prey shows unexpected teeth.

‘So that’s how you want to play it...’

He ran a tanned finger along the Den Den Mushi's now dormant shell, as if expecting it to wake up again with your voice, to apologize, to beg. His grin remained, but it no longer touched the sharpness in the rest of his features. The mood in the room shifted, the temperature cooled by calculation.

You had no idea who you were speaking to. No fear. No reverence. Just irritation and the gall to hang up on him.

Amusing. Unforgivable.

He laced his fingers beneath his chin, elbow resting comfortably on the arm of his chair as the lenses of his glasses flashed gold beneath the sunbeams. The wheels were turning. Names. Faces. Locations. You had become a question that needed answering, and once answered, a piece he would yet decide how to keep.

King the Wildfire

The air was brittle and sharp. Each breath you took cutting into your lungs like tiny knives. Snow fell in soft sheets, almost too delicate for the world it blanketed. You had landed your ship; small, frost-lined, and slightly worn by travel, on the edge of a cliffside inlet. It was the kind of winter island only the bold or the desperate would approach, hidden deep in the New World, far off any trade route or charted log pose.

You’d come here for solitude. Maybe to resupply. Maybe to breathe. Even in the New World, there were moments when the silence of the snow could drown out the madness of the sea.

But the island wasn’t empty.

You found the cabin while following a trail of broken pine branches and faint blood marks half-buried beneath the snowfall. Whoever had stumbled through here had been in a hurry, and hurt. The cabin itself was wedged between slabs of frozen rock, built tight against the wind, its windows frosted over and door cracked open slightly.

Inside, it was dark, dimly lit by a fire that had long since died. Supplies had been overturned. A half-unpacked crate of rations sat untouched, next to a thick black fur-lined cloak that hung by the wall. Whatever had happened here, the occupant had left, or even been taken, suddenly.

You should have left. It was none of your business.

But the Den Den Mushi on the corner table suddenly stirred from its blanket.

Its eyes blinked open, slow and groggy, then twitched to life. Its shell, black and almost armored, vibrated slightly as static bled through its mouth. Then it rang. "Pururururu"

You frowned, hesitated, then stepped forward and picked it up, your fingers tensing instinctively.

"Yes? Whoever this is, they’re gone now. I just found the place."

There was a pause. Then, a steady voice came through with a weight that settled instantly in your chest. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

"Who are you."

Not a question. A demand.

You raised an eyebrow. Lips twitching at the coldness of it as you are more intrigued than intimidated.

"Shouldn’t I be asking you that mystery voice?"

Another pause. Then a sound like wind through steel. Controlled, but dangerous.

"This line was not meant for you."

"Clearly," you muttered, already feeling the conversation sour. "Take it up with whoever left their life behind here. I’m just passing through."

"Describe yourself."

You snorted, more amused than concerned. "You first."

Silence.

And then, for a moment, you thought he’d ended the call.

But then he spoke again. Slower. Measured. Almost... Thoughtful.

"You shouldn’t be there."

That sent a prickle up your spine. You glanced toward the window, suddenly more aware of the wind outside, of the cabin’s exposed position.

"Tch. Don’t worry. I won’t be for long," you muttered, your breath curling in the frozen air as your fingers hovered just a moment longer over the receiver.

The silence on the other end thickened, as if he was still there. Judging. Waiting for a mistake you wouldn’t make.

Your lips pressed into a thin, unimpressed line. With a soft exhale and zero ceremony, you clicked the transmitter down with finality, like closing a door on a storm that hadn't quite reached you yet.

Amid the churning clouds of a storm-gray sky, a tall, dark figure hovered. No longer flying in motion. Enormous and winged, it was enshrouded in a mantle of black leather and flame.

King stared at the Den Den Mushi nestled in his gloved hand. It looked almost like a pebble cradled in his palm. His jaw set, unreadable behind his obsidian mask, but his eyes narrowed beneath it- two sharp coals in a sea of silver cloud.

You had not been afraid. Not respectful. Not even curious.

You had spoken to him like he was just another voice. A stranger. Like he didn’t matter.

Now he needed to know the face behind that voice. The stranger who spoke so carelessly.

And if you thought the cold of the island would hide you, you didn’t yet understand what burned beneath his skin.

Sakazuki Akainu

The island was alive with birdsong and breeze, the scent of wildflowers sweet on the air. Spring had settled thick into the ground. Lush green hills rolled beneath a soft blue sky, and warm sunlight danced across the surface of quiet streams. It would have been peaceful. It should have been.

But something felt off.

Your ship was moored in a small cove just beyond a canopy of flowering trees, nestled beside jagged cliffs. You'd come here for a brief survey. Mapping islands untouched by the World Government, collecting samples, maybe marking a few points of interest. It was the kind of work that should have felt routine by now. But as soon as your boots touched the forest floor, the wind shifted. The birds quieted. Something- someone was missing.

It was a trail of bootprints that led you to the modest hut perched on a slope above the stream. Simple, sturdy, built with intention. But the door was ajar, the interior empty. No food. No packs. Just the remnants of someone leaving in a hurry.

And a Den Den Mushi, sitting neatly atop a wooden desk.

It rang the moment you stepped in.

You stared at it. Just long enough to question your instincts. Then you picked it up.

"Hello? The person linked to this Den Den Mushi is currently nowhere in sight."

"Who the hell is this?" the voice growled through the line. Low, gravelly and laced with the tightly controlled outrage of a man unaccustomed to sudden surprises.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You first."

A pause. Just a beat. But it was dense with barely contained irritation.

"You're trespassing on restricted grounds. Identify yourself immediately."

"Pass," you said flatly, not in the mood to entertain command barked like law.

The silence that followed turned molten. You could practically feel the seethe radiating from the snail. The Den Den Mushi even twitched slightly in your hand, as if anticipating the fury on the other end.

"Listen well. I don’t care who you think you are, or what authority you pretend to operate under-"

"You want to try that again with a little less barking and a little more humility? Who are you exactly?"

The voice hissed like boiling coals. "I am Admiral Sakazuki Akainu."

You blinked. Then scoffed. "Oh. That explains the total absence of warmth."

The line went still, but not with silence. It felt like the kind of stillness before a firestorm rips through the sky. The Den Den Mushi's features slowly twisted in discomfort, its body drawing back just slightly further as though it too feared what was coming next. Yet its face… Its face still mirrored the one on the other end. And that face was furious.

Then he spoke again, lower this time, slower: "You have five seconds to explain why you're there."

You rolled your eyes. "Take a hike. I currently abide by the law, as the island itself isn’t officially limited. And I won’t let some old man too high up his horse ruin my expedition. Not today."

You didn’t give him the chance to steamroll the conversation again. Your finger hovered just half a second longer, then pressed down with quiet finality.

Click.

Out at sea, aboard a massive Marine battleship cutting through the blue, the call ended with a sharp click that echoed louder than it should have in the Admiral’s quarters.

Though you weren't present to witness it, the ambient atmosphere within the Admiral’s quarters had changed noticeably in the span of just a minute. An almost tangible pressure descended, as if the temperature and tension simultaneously rose in response to the call's abrupt end.

Sakazuki stood behind his desk, gloved fists clenched tight at his sides, the Den Den Mushi still twitching faintly in fear on the polished surface. The words you’d left him with still rang in his ears. Unapologetic, dismissive and entirely undeserved in his mind.

Your voice. Your tone. That defiance. It wasn't just a slight… It was a challenge. And whether you realized it or not, you had his full attention now.

He stared out the porthole, his jaw working, heat radiating faintly off his shoulders as magma simmered just beneath the surface of his skin.

You had mocked him. Dismissed him. Treated him like an annoyance.

You still had no idea who you were speaking to.

But he did.

You were now a question he needed answered. A fire he had no intention of extinguishing, but rather understanding.

He would find you. He’ll go directly to the spring island instead. Marineford can wait.

And when he gets there, he would meet your defiance not with fury, but with equal intensity. A force not to silence you, but to match you. He needed to know what kind of mind stood behind that voice, and what kind of a heart dared to challenge his.

You had sparked something he couldn’t ignore.

Sir Crocodile

The jungle of Little Garden buzzed with ancient life, massive prehistoric flowers blooming in unnatural colors, their petals bigger than sails and glistening with dew the size of pearls. You had come to this strange island alone, navigating the Grand Line aboard your own compact but expertly built vessel. Fast, stealthy and equipped to endure the worst of the seas. It was all you needed. You never did like sailing in someone else’s shadow.

Your boots sank into mossy earth as you ventured deeper into the foliage, drawn not by a map or mission but by curiosity alone. Something about the raw, untouched feel of the island tugged at you. And then you saw it. Tucked into a grove of twisted trees. A structure entirely out of place.

A house made of wax. It looked like a giant box with oddly charming round windows, basic in shape and strangely pristine among the jungle's chaos. The structure seemed almost cartoonishly simplistic, its smooth waxy exterior untouched and looking quite fresh. It stood there like a misplaced toy dropped in the wilderness, absurd in its bold presence but undeniably inviting. Your instincts bristled at the unnatural sight. Every survival lesson told you to walk away. And yet, curiosity whispered louder, more insistent. It always did. You stepped inside.

It was quaint, eerily tidy, with the faint scent of candlewax and floral tea lingering in the air. The interior was smooth and softly glowing, with light filtering gently through the round windows. A kettle still steamed gently on the table, and porcelain teacups were set out neatly for five, their delicate rims catching the light. As if the host had just stepped out and would return any minute.

You arched a brow but shrugged, placing a modest stack of belli beside the cup that looked unused. Gratitude without a name. You sipped. Jasmine? Maybe bergamot? You have no clue. Still… Surprisingly refined for such a bizarre setting.

After a few minutes of soothing silence, a strange crackling sound broke the quiet. Muffled, subtle, like a whisper trapped in a box trying to escape. It was faint, but persistent, threading unease through the otherwise peaceful stillness of the wax house.

Your eyes drifted toward a modest wicker basket tucked against the wall. You approached slowly, each step muffled by the waxy floor beneath your boots, and crouched to examine the basket.

Curiosity, again, won over caution.

Cautiously, you flipped open the lid. A low, static hum greeted you, followed by the sudden blinking of a Den Den Mushi, its tiny snail body twitching awake as if shaken from slumber. You picked up the call.

Its eyes blinked at you, already mimicking the tension of someone on the other end of the line. Someone who looked anything but friendly.

"Hello?" you said smoothly, lifting it to your face. "Whoever owns this Den Den Mushi isn’t here right now. Can I take a message? I could write it down for this..." Your eyes examined the engraved black lettering and the serial number inscribed neatly near the top of the Den Den Mushi's shell, just above the dial casing. An identifier likely tied to its designated owner, which made it all the more curious. "Mr. 3?"

The snail's mouth twitched, its face forming into a vaguely annoyed scowl. You watched, your brow arching slightly, as the Den Den Mushi’s features settled into the likeness of someone clearly unamused. There was a pause. Intentional and weighted. Then came a voice. Low, smoky and steeped in suspicion: "Who are you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the tone. Not what you expected from answering a snail call in a wax house.

"Excuse me?" you asked, your voice tightening with a mix of confusion and annoyance.

"Who are you." the voice repeated even sharper now. Every word laced with barely restrained authority. It wasn’t a question anymore. It was a demand.

Your spine straightened instinctively, the hairs on your arms rising in silent protest. Irritation surged, flaring beneath your calm expression.

"That sounds like a personal problem," you replied, tone clipped. "Why does it matter so much to you anyway?"

A pause stretched out between you like the calm before a storm. Then, as if on cue, the temperature of the room seemed to shift. An invisible heat curling through the line, thick with tension. Whoever was on the other end wasn’t just irritated. They were dangerous. And they weren’t used to being talked back to.

But that only made your disinterest grow.

"Wait. Don’t answer that," you said, your voice suddenly as cold as it had been curious a moment ago. You glanced at the snail’s twitching face and exhaled slowly.

"I’m already bored with the start of this conversation as is. Have a nice day, and I hope your attitude truly isn’t as low as your voice is. Bye."

Click.

Far across the Grand Line, deep within the opulent, marble-veined walls of Rain Dinners, a warlord sat behind a desk carved from dark wood, the room scented faintly of cigars, a tinge of ozone and dry desert wind. The Den Den Mushi before him had gone still, its mimicry fading, the tiny snail now blinking blankly once more.

Crocodile's golden hook tapped once against the desk’s surface, the soft clink echoing louder than it should have. His lips curled. Not quite a smile, but something darker, bemused and simmering with intent. It wasn’t anger that stirred behind his deep, heavy-lidded eyes. Not entirely. No, it was intrigue. Thin, sharp intrigue that slipped into something more vicious the longer he sat with the silence.

Across the room, lounging comfortably beside the lounging Bananawani, Miss All Sunday didn’t say a word. She continued stroking the creature’s chin with idle grace, her fingers moving in lazy circles as if this moment meant nothing to her. But her eyes, sharp and impossibly calm, flicked toward Crocodile. Her smile grew just slightly. Subtle, knowing  and amused. Still, she said nothing. Just a glance, a raised brow, and the curve of her lips betraying silent amusement.

He ignored her entirely.

No one… No one spoke to him like that. Not Marines, not pirates, not even the fools under his employ. And yet, that voice; sharp, cool, unshaken, had done exactly that.

Who were you? Why were you there? And how dare you hang up on him like this?

His mind, once razor-focused on the original task, began to shift. The irritation you’d sparked twisted into something far more obsessive. Cold calculation replaced surprise. Your words repeated in his head. Not just the insult, but the tone: bored, dismissive, utterly unafraid.

Now he had to know who you were.

[the-most-humble-blog]

<!-- BEGIN TRANSMISSION --> <div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta regret-level="ritual grade grief"> <script>ACKNOWLEDGMENT_LOG="COMMENT_RESPONSE_001_FIREPERMIT"</script>

I guard the gates not out of arrogance— but because I know what it does to a man when he opens his chest to the wrong eyes.

Your words reached me.

Some people clap for the performance.

You understood the cost of the ritual.*

And for that… you’ll always be welcome by the fire. </div> <!-- END TRANSMISSION [AUTO-PIN RECOGNITION: 1/1] -->

[jerzwriter]

Back to @creativepromptsforwriting's 30-Day Challenge - Day 18 took me a little longer than anticipated. The prompt was "Use the title of the last song you listened to. "My last song was Ed Sheeran's Old Phone, which gave me the opportunity to get my angst on again - and I have to admit - I enjoyed it!

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Kaycee MacClennan (F!MC) Featuring: Tobias Carrick Rating: Teen Words: ~3,000 (sorry!)

Summary: While rummaging through a junk drawer, Ethan stumbles upon an old phone. He decides to charge it and take a trip down memory lane - but are some memories best left in the past?

Also participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge's May Mayhem - prompts: Regret and Confession

30-Day Challenge Masterlist | Full Masterlist

It was already dark when Ethan closed his office door, that time of day when even Edenbrook's hectic halls settled into a quiet hum. It had been a long day, and as he stepped into the elevator with his coat slung over his arm, he was relieved to leave it behind him. But just as the doors began to slide shut, a familiar voice shattered the peace.

“Ethan!”

A hand slid between the doors, forcing them open, and Dr. Tobias Carrick stepped in. Ethan sighed, not with disdain, but unmistakable annoyance. If Tobias noticed, he didn't care, as he leaned against the elevator wall with his usual swagger and a curious grin on his lips.

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to catch you all day. I wanted to see how the date went last night.”

Ethan pressed the button for the ground floor, eager to end this conversation as quickly as he could. “It was fine,” he muttered, hoping that would suffice, even though he knew better.

“Fine?” Tobias replied with a raised brow. “That’s it?”

“Yes, it was - fine.”

Tobias shook his head. “Trina is beautiful. She’s smart, charming, she loves opera for Christ's sake. I would have gone for it myself,” he smirked, as if that result would have been a foregone conclusion, “but I hooked you up instead, because you're a perfect match, and the best you can do is... fine?”

“She’s lovely,” Ethan admitted, slipping on his coat. “But no.”

“No?” Tobias repeated. “You're really using your words today, big guy. Why, no?”

A moment of silence passed as Ethan thought of a dozen excuses he could offer, but Tobias had been his friend long enough to know when he was lying, so he decided to go with the truth.

“Because I’m still in love with someone else.”

The low humming sound of the elevator suddenly felt much louder, and Tobias placed a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder.

“Buddy, you know that she’s gone, right?”

A lump formed in Ethan’s throat. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice tense. “I know.”

A bell rang before the doors slid open, and the old saying ‘saved by the bell’ took on a new meaning for Ethan. “Good night, Tobias,” he said as he rushed out, leaving his sullen friend behind.

~~~~~

Several hours later, Ethan was alone in his Back Bay condo, a single log crackling in the fireplace his sole companion. He tried to unwind with a glass of Macallan in his hand and a melodic jazz ensemble playing in the background. But the night moved on at a snail's pace, just like all the years that came before it. He reached for the bottle again, a curse falling from his lips when he found it empty.

Grumbling under his breath, he made his way to the kitchen and opened a cabinet where he kept a few unopened bottles - an emergency supply for moments like this. He pulled a Glendronach he’d been saving and rifled through a nearby drawer looking for the foil cutter when his hand brushed something he couldn't place.

Curiously, he pulled the object out, then stood in silence: his old iPhone, scuffed around the edges. He hadn’t seen it in nearly a decade. He almost forgot that it existed, but apparently, he never let it go, just like so many things from his past.

He didn't know if he should do it— he knew some things were best left in the past—but compelled by something he couldn’t name, he found himself plugging in the phone and waiting patiently as the screen slowly came to life. Then, a standard-issue screensaver transported him back to another place and time.

He entered a passcode—fortunately, it was the same one he used today—and then decided to take the plunge, swiping up as old messages filled the screen like little ghosts visiting from his past.

The first one was from Naveen.

“Ethan, you’re the only one who understands how much this frightens me. Thank you for being there.”

His chest tightened, and tears prickled at his eyes despite his best efforts to stop them. But seeing their last conversations again proved to be more painful than he could have imagined. There were updates on his treatment plan, friendly advice, terrible jokes, and gratitude—so much unending, mutual gratitude. Then there was the selfie Naveen sent from his hospital bed, he was doing his best to make a silly face through the pain. His final message was just below it—a message Ethan had left unread until now.

“I’m proud of you, Ethan. I didn't say it often enough, but you brought joy to my life every day. Promise me you’ll keep moving forward. Be happy, son, because time passes faster than you think. Thank you for making my life a brighter place.”

Ethan shuddered, his eyes clenching shut, as the hollow space left in his heart after Naveen passed grew larger. There were days when Ethan truly wondered if there would be anything left but chambers left vacant by those in the past—spaces that no one else could ever fill.

He waited several moments before turning back. The following message was from his father, Alan.

Their messages were strained back then - kind, but lacking the warmth they share today. A smile spread on his face because he knew - he knew exactly who he had to thank for that. But these old messages were mostly about arguments over things that should have been long buried, with lengthy stretches of silence in between.

"So much wasted time..." he said aloud. He grabbed his current phone and sent a text at once:

“I miss you, Dad. Let’s make plans for the weekend.”

He knew Alan was already asleep, but that didn’t matter. It would be a pleasant surprise when he woke up. Then, it was back to his trip down memory lane - or self-imposed torture - it could have been either of the two.

He pulled up the next thread, and that's when his heart nearly stopped.

Kaycee.

So many years had passed since he last saw her, but time never changed how the mere sight of her name could stop his world from spinning on its axis. He scrolled up to the very first message she ever sent.

“Just testing the number. I promise I’ll only use it for emergencies. But I want you to know that I’m here if you need someone. I know tonight was hard.”

The memories flooded his mind. She sent that text the night his friend, Dolores, died at the hospital while under their care. Kaycee never left his side. He had never given his number to an intern before that, and, even then, he questioned his judgment, but Kaycee was right; it had been a hard night, and something inside him had shifted.

Only use this if you absolutely have to. He told her, but she sent that first message just a few hours later, because she knew he needed someone, even if he didn’t know it himself. Her heart was always much bigger than his rules.

He could have stopped there, but he couldn’t keep himself from reading more – all of their texts reading like a storybook of their time together. Messages from when they were clandestinely treating Naveen. His vitals, lab results, stupid jokes she sent as an attempt to cheer him up, and the embarrassing stories Naveen was all too eager to share.

“Naveen told me you fainted when you administered your first injection in med school. That can’t be true, can it?” “Remind me to talk to Naveen. He’ll need to sign an NDA if he expects me to continue treating him.” “Ha! I’d still get it out of him!”

And she’s right. She would have.

He pulled up the phone’s camera roll, knowing precisely what picture he longed to see – and there it was. Kaycee at the medical conference they attended in Miami - it seemed like a lifetime ago. He smiled as his fingers traced the image on the screen - that navy blue gown had nearly knocked him off his feet, and seeing it again brought him back.

Back to that balcony where the sound of crashing waves was so loud, you'd swear they were only a few feet away. He could taste the warm, salty air and see her emerald green eyes gazing at him with more love and adoration than he rightfully deserved.

He didn't want it to happen - but it was inevitable - and it took just one kiss for the rest of the world to fade away. It felt like every mismatched puzzle piece that made up his life was finally coming together –  a cosmic event when the planets finally aligned according to a master plan – but, as quickly as it surrendered, he pulled away.

He sent her a text message the next day as he sat in the hotel room, and she traipsed around Miami, going anywhere and everywhere to escape him.

“I’m so sorry, Kaycee. You’re beautiful...brilliant. You deserve the whole world. But I was wrong last night, and I won’t let that happen again.”

“Got it."

Was all she replied - then the silence stretched for weeks.

He tried to avoid her, but somehow, it never worked. There was the text he sent her the morning after he took her to the opera in a desperate attempt to lift her spirits. The night that ended with another searing kiss in his private box – a box he never stepped into without thinking of her again – even to this day.  

“Kaycee, we can’t keep doing this.”

“I know. But I don’t want to stop, Ethan, and I know you don't either. You mean so much to me... we have to find a way.”

There were dozens more texts –each more raw and honest than the next – well, at least the ones from Kaycee were. Then there was one from June that would change the trajectory of his life. Destroying him with just eight words:

“It’s confirmed. Kaycee’s in there. She was exposed.”

That night would haunt him forever. No matter how hard he tried, he could never erase the memory of kneeling awkwardly beside her, the hazmat suit crinkling with every move. He whispered the words he should have said long before, but sometimes the worst possible thing has to happen to render one's vision clear.

He told her he loved her and begged her to fight. For him-for them-she needed to stay and never leave his side again... and she listened. She survived, Ethan administering the life-saving injection the next morning, and their world changed for the better.

After, their messages were filled with all the love and passion expected from a secret love affair—a love that was beautiful, messy, and divine. It ushered in a light unlike any he had ever known.

“Have I told you how much I adore waking up in your arms?” She wrote.

“About as much as I adore having you there.”

“Promise me this will never end, " she begged. "Please, promise me this is only our beginning.”

He replied in an instant.

“Of course it is. Something this precious can never go away.”

It was real, and they were happy. So happy. They merely had to keep it quiet until her residency was over. A task that sounded far easier than it was, but they reminded each other it would be worth it... until something inside him began to change. i

“Just four more months! Then I can walk out of work with you, hand in hand, and plant the biggest kiss on your cheek!  I can’t wait to let the whole world know how much I love you, Ethan!”

He didn’t reply.

Why didn’t he reply?

After that, each message began to signal the end.

“Why did you cancel our dinner on Saturday?  We were supposed to talk. I really need you, Ethan. I have offers from Hopkins, UCSF, Cedars-Sinai…but they need answers soon. I want to talk to you before I decide.”

“You don’t need me to decide, Rookie. Follow your gut - it will tell you what the best move is. I’m so proud of you, Kaycee. I always knew you were going to change the world, and just look at you! You are.”

“I appreciate that, Ethan, but being proud of me isn't what I need right now."

“What do you need?”

“I need you to tell me to stay. Edenbrook gave me an offer, too. Tell me my future is here, in Boston, with YOU. I want a reason to stay.”

He shut his eyes, disgusted with himself.

Hours passed. Hours. He could just picture her, nervously biting her lip, her wavy, blonde hair tied into a messy bun above her furrowed brow as she checked her phone incessantly... waiting. How could he have let hours pass? Why would he do that to her?

Then – the worst decision he ever made – right there – saved to haunt him for all time and posterity.

“I can’t do that, Kaycee. Your future - your career needs to dictate your choice, not me. I care about you too much to stand in the way of that.”

He thought he was being noble. Putting her career and her needs before his own. At least that was the lie he repeated to himself like a mantra. But Kaycee cut through it, her reply instantaneous.

“You told me you loved me, Ethan. You said I was your world. Has that changed? Don’t you want me to stay? Please, tell me you haven't changed your mind."

He never answered.

Months passed before he received the last text she’d ever send. She was settling into her new place in LA – two thousand, five hundred miles away in an apartment he’d never see – beginning a life he’d never be part of. He was sitting in his office when it arrived – the very place they had shared so many conversations, spent late nights solving cases, and sometimes, doing much more. Now, he was by himself as he read:

“I wanted to let you know I arrived in LA and I’m settling into my new place. It’s really beautiful, but it’ll be a while before it feels like home – if it ever does at all. I’m going to do my best to move forward – it's not like I have a choice. I'll start fresh and embrace the next chapter, but it’s going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I wanted to thank you, Ethan, for everything you’ve ever done for me. You were my mentor, my sounding board, and so, so much more. You taught me to be brave and never back down from what I wanted most in life. I only wish you had been strong enough to take your own advice. I wish I could say we'll keep in touch, perhaps learn to be friends. But I can’t. Just seeing your name still breaks me inside, and the idea of hearing your voice with an entire country between us moves me to tears. You were the one for me, Ethan, I know that. And I truly believed I was the one for you. I'll never understand how we ended up here. I’m going to need space to heal, so please don’t reach out to me. Perhaps I’ll contact you one day, if I ever feel strong enough, but in case that day never comes, I need you to know that I loved you with all my heart, Ethan, and I always, always will. I wish you the best. Please remember me - Kaycee"

And he never heard from her again.

He sat in the dark for a long time, his hand shaking around the phone he clutched as if it were a lifeline. He thought about all the times he wanted to call her, and found every excuse not to.  

He remembered the pain of losing, the lonely nights when it became so unbearable that he tried to lose himself in others, but no one's touch would ever feel right, and his name only belonged on her lips.

He saw her name in medical journals on occasion, sometimes a photo from a conference where she gave a keynote speech, and he was amazed at how her smile could still melt his heart. He hoped – sometimes even prayed – that she had healed, because he already accepted that he never would.

Time marched on, and with each year that passed, breaking the silence seemed harder. He hadn’t even put her number in his new phone, but Kaycee MacClennan would never be a part of his past. She lived beside him every single day. A ghost who walked through the rooms of his mind, reminding him of what his life could have been if he hadn’t been such a coward.

He finally willed himself to stand. He extinguished the fire and headed to bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. He stared at the space where she used to sleep - just like the space she had taken in his heart, it would never again be filled.

He tossed and turned for hours, then finally sat up and turned on the light. He grabbed his phone and entered her number – he didn’t need to look it up, it was committed to memory. And then, he wrote:

I  never wanted you to leave Boston. I just didn’t know how to say that without feeling like I was stealing your future. I wanted to follow you to LA, but back then, I didn’t believe I deserved you. I should have told you. I can't tell you how many messages I started over the years, but I deleted every single one. The truth is, you’re the only woman I've ever loved, Kaycee. You were the one for me: then, now, and forever. I'll never stop grieving the fact that I let you go.

You don't have to write back. I don’t expect a response. I just felt you were owed the truth, even if it’s coming years too late.

I hope you found happiness, because no one deserves it more than you. Just know, I never stopped loving you, and I never will. Ethan

He hit send quickly, before he lost his nerve. He slid the phone into the nightstand, shut off the light, and clutched the pillow that should’ve been hers. Then he cried—fully, freely - letting it all out. It was something he should’ve done years ago.

~~~~~

It was a little after midnight in Los Angeles. Kaycee’s nighttime routine hadn’t changed in all these years – shower, watch Jimmy Fallon, then off to bed.

The television was dark, and she had just slipped under the covers when her phone vibrated across the room. She let out a soft groan. She should check it—it could be important—but she was exhausted. If it's urgent, they'll reach out again, she reasoned as she shifted under the comforter and closed her eyes. Sleep was all that mattered now, and the message could wait until the morning.

[someverygaymoth]

Nightmare's boys giving him Crow trash/autistic pocket wonders as gifts pt.2:

Horror brings him a snail shell from the garden.

"Boss, lookit this."

Nightmare looks up from his book, trying not to look as startled as he is by the sudden voice and aura of excitement in such close vicinity. Horror has a way of sneaking up on people, for as big a monster as he's become by now.

"Din't mean to startle ya, boss." He only looks mildly apologetic. Still, genuine enough.

It's at this point that he realizes his tendrils are sharpened and raised over his shoulders in preparation to attack. He forces himself to relax, sighing a little. "It's quite alright, I was simply engrossed in my literature."

"Whatssit about?"

"Death, mostly."

"Rough..."

"Quite, but rather eloquent..." Nightmare blinks at him, observing the soil between his joints and dirtying the cuffs of his sleeves. He's holding something. Right, "did you need something?"

"Oh, yeah, I found this." Horror opens up his hand, showing off a small, round shell. It's a light brown, unassuming. "It's a snail shell."

The corpse of a small land mollusk. He recalls finding them with his brother under mossy logs or along their mother's roots

"Fascinating..."

"I know," Horror says softly. "They're born with these shells, then they leave em behind. Isn't that somethin..."

"That it is. Something." He's not entirely sure what happens when he dies, you know, on account of never having done it before. Though, if he had to venture a guess, it'd be something like the death of an ordinary monster. Nothing but dust left behind. Maybe his true form would survive undamaged, maybe he'd simply pop right back up somewhere else, maybe he wouldn't dust at all. He's much more keen on testing that theory with a certain ray of sunshine than himself, however.

"Ya want it?"

"The corpse of this land mollusk?"

"Uh... yeah?" Horror laughs a little. Amusement wafts off him. Nightmare doesn't understand what he finds so funny...

Night scoffs, looking at the small shell within Horror's grasp. It's... he's unsure what exactly to think about it. "Hm, fine. I'll accept it."

Horror grins at him, closing his hand and moving to turn away. Nightmare grabs him by the wrist and squints at him. Horror seems even more amused by this. "What's up?"

"Where... I thought you were offering it to me?"

"It's covered in dirt, I was just gonna wash it off fore I gave it to you."

"You act as if I've never touched a little dirt before," Mare huffs.

Horror's amusement grows by the second. It's irritating. "Kings rarely do."

Nightmare rolls his eye, "some kings. Foolish ones." He holds out his hand.

Horror places the little shell in his palm, smiling. It looks much bigger in his palm than it did in Horror's. He thinks of where he'll put it... a shadowbox, maybe? A shelf...? He can think of a few shelves...

"Whatcha thinkin?"

"Only of how ridiculous you mortals are..."

"Ya love us."

Nightmare prickles, scowling at him, "that's frivolous. You forget yourself."

[leafsbabe]

Travis Kelce - private show (SMUT)

2k, there is a butt plug in this in case you don't like that

He loved his team, he truly did, but Travis was also very glad when their post-training meeting was over and he could dip. None of his teammates tried to stop him as he all but ran out of the room, something he was grateful for. In the past it had been a given that he would walk out with some of the other men, talking, joking, but nowadays that had become a rare sight. He was always in a rush to get back to his room, back to the closest thing he had ever come to an addiction.

Away games hadn't been the same ever since he had stumbled across that fateful link.

By some lucky coincidence the facilities for the visiting team in the field they’d be playing tomorrow were absolute ass so the chiefs had rented out one of the hotel meeting rooms for their review. Meaning all Travis had to do to get back to his room was hop onto an elevator. After that he was free to lock himself in his room until it was time for dinner.

The elevator crawled up to his floor at a snail's pace but he stopped himself from impatiently rocking back and forth on the soles of his feet. When it finally came to a stop he started to squeeze out of the elevator before the doors had fully opened but he didn’t even care how it looked, he was already late and he didn’t want to miss any more.

The door to his room slammed shut behind him as he stormed in, jumping onto the bed with enough energy that realistically it should have broken but by some miracle stayed intact as he opened his carefully changed laptop while attempting to toe off his shoes.

The website didn’t automatically open once he clicked on his browser but he had been visiting it religiously to the point that it autofilled after a single letter. His pants started to feel too tight before the site had even finished loading and Travis couldn’t help but groan at the realisation that he fucking pavloved himself into getting a semi at the mere thought of you.

The stream had already started but hopefully he didn’t miss much. A familiar background greeted him before his eyes focused in on you. Splayed across the bed you’re a sight for sore eyes, hair messed up just enough to let him know you’d played with it before he logged on, body clad in next to nothing. A new, expensive next to nothing. Good to know all of the money he sent you got put to good use. 

He waited for you to greet him like you usually did, surely you must have noticed him joining your stream, he was your biggest fan after all, but when you didn’t he sent you a message over private chat. Expensive, yes, but he didn’t need people knowing his dirty little secrets.

Finally you acknowledged him. 

“Hi bigyeti, nice of you to join again.” It seemed like a standard greeting but he knew by your tone that you were annoyed at him for being late again. Brat. Travis watched you slide a hand over your bare skin until it reached the lace covering your chest. But instead of teasing one of your hard nipples through the material or even taking it off to show the irresistible swell of your chest you just ran your fingers over the seam at the edge of your bra. “As much as I think this set is cute, this will probably be the last time you’ll see me in it. It’s not really comfortable and I can barely get it closed by myself.”

You were probably hoping for messages offering to help you with that but Travis had been watching long enough to read between the lines. You were going to offer up the set but beat you to it. His simple message didn't get a written reply but he noticed you look off screen before smiling. “You know the price bigyeti.”

You didn’t take it off though, just changed positions until you were kneeling on the bed. It was only then that Travis noticed the selection of toys laid out in front of you.

“What do you think,” you picked up one of them, dark purple and intriguing, but not his favorite of the spread. “Should we run a poll or let the highest bidder decide?”

He sent you a rack before you even had time to decide, after which he finally rid himself of his sweats and underwear.

“You know which one.” Your sweet voice read his message in the chat, laughing as you held up the one you knew he wanted. Pale pink with ridges that could get you off every time, filling you up perfectly before the vibrations took you out. The first time he had watched you use it you had squirted and he had been hooked ever since.

“Should I be concerned big? You seem to like this little guy more than me.” You pouted at the camera, bringing the vibe up and tapping it against your bottom lip. 

Travis groaned before typing again. Hopefully this would be a one handed operation soon.

“You know you’re my favorite. Aww that’s so sweet of you yeti. Want to know a secret?” He watched you lean forward, holding your chest into the camera with practiced ease. “You’re my favorite too.”

Travis slowly stroked himself as you bit your lip, reaching behind you and finally freeing yourself from the lace. You had been truthful about how ill fitting it was, his eyes automatically drawn to the red indents on the side of your boobs. He fantasized about getting his mouth on them, of soothing your flesh with his tongue.

You didn’t try to act sexy as you balled up the bra and threw it off-cam, something he came to enjoy. You were this temptress, bane of his bank account and object of his desire, but you were also human.

As he saw you kneeling there Travis finally gave in and reached for his lube, because he was in his thirties now and using lotion to jack off felt awfully juvenile. He watched you run your hands over your body, just palming himself to the view of you playing with your nipples.

“We’re going to try something new today.”

The tone of your voice had him shifting, sitting up straighter and paying more attention. He didn’t have to wait long to find out what something new meant. You got rid of the last remaining hint of nothing hiding your skin before turning around into the most perfect reverse cowgirl POV he knew and there it was. Nestled between your cheeks laid a small plug with a deep red gem at the end that sparkled in the lights you used during your shows. A hot shudder ran through him as the grip he had on himself tightened.

“You know what to do if you like it.” You smiled at the cam over your shoulder before turning back around.

Travis debated between finally touching himself properly and sending you another donation when you positioned the toy he picked and he relented. He’d just send you another tip later. He was slow with his movements, teasing himself as you sank down on the toy. You stopped halfway, adjusting to the stretch, but Travis just continued to stroke his dick.

You were noisy, he liked that about the streams. You weren’t holding back but it also didn’t feel like you were putting on a show. You were simply vocal in bed and he loved it.

Treavis continued to work himself as he watched you ride the toy, torn between closing his eyes and imagining it was you that had a hand wrapped around his dick or even riding it and wanting to watch you take your pleasure with the toy on stream. He watched you move, the way you stretched around the toy with every rise and fall. It was mesmerizing, the shimmer of that salacious gem catching his eye only for his focus to be drawn away by the flex of your thick thighs, or the dimples on your lower back, or those sweet filthy moans that kept on leaving your mouth. He felt drunk on you, drunk on the fire running through him.

There was no rhythm to the way Travis was stroking his cock as he watched you, all pretense of following your movements abandoned long ago. He felt his orgasm approaching, considering for a moment whether he should try and draw it out, to wait for you and come together, before giving that idea up and quickening his pace. He came to the sound of your moans, all over his fist and with his head thrown back in ecstasy.

Travis let himself float only until the next moan tore his attention back to the screen in front of him. You were barely riding the toy at this point, grinding more than anything. Even with his muddled mind it was clear that you were on the brink yourself.

When you finally tipped over it was with a shout. Your legs shook, more violently than he had ever seen from you before, while your body contracted around the sex toys filling you up. He palmed his softening cock as he watched you fall apart, too spent to try getting another orgasm out of it but still wired enough to draw out that afterglow for just a little while longer. 

He watched as your orgasm came to an end, the shaking in your thighs never quite stopping even though the vibrations of your toy did. You removed the pink vibrator but that bejeweled plug stayed in place as you slowly turned around and sat in full view of the cam, leaning back on your hands and smiling. You were still breathing heavily but it only drew attention to your tits and Travis found himself reaching for his phone before he realized that his hand was covered in his cum and used his other one instead. He wasn’t good at typing with his nondominant hand but another tip found itself being sent your way soon enough anyway.

“That was fun.” You said, breathless but still smiling. No reaction to his message if you had even seen it. “We should do this again sometime.”

Travis got another long look at your body as you leaned forward to shut off the cam and then he was alone in his hotel room again.

Shutting his laptop before he got up, Travis went to wash his hands and clean up a bit of the mess around his dick. He would shower soon but there was something he had to take care of before that. His phone was still laid on the bed, even though he had to search through the sheets to find it.

Travis pulled up that all too familiar contact and pressed video call. You answered almost immediately, makeup still on your face but with your hair pulled back and a shirt thrown over your body.

“Was that good?” You asked as soon as the call connected. He could see you bite your lip, nervously, and he hated being so far away from you even more.

“You were perfect.” He answered, truthfully. “So hot, baby. Almost makes me want to set you up a real camming account just to show you off.”

The program you two had now was little more than a private video chat but Travis had tried to set it up nicely for you. It had involved a lot of awkward questions to one of the New Height techies but the chat worked amazing for your little cam show and your audience of one.

You just laughed at his antics. “No you wouldn’t.”

“No I wouldn’t.” He relented. “I don’t like to share, even if you’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen. And all mine.”

You laughed again. “All yours.” You confirmed before continuing, teasing him with an account of the new things you had brought for the two of you to try. Fuck. He couldn’t wait to come home.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 30 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Noah were the same. The way you missed Bradley together gave you comfort but also made everything harder. In your desire to move in with them, you started to organize the attic with your things. But who would have known you could be so hurt by the ghost of something that was left behind?

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut, and age gap (18+)

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Once Noah was in bed for the night, you started counting down the time until you would both be awake the next morning. It was like that every evening. And you usually ended up sitting alone on the couch with some Skittles, stressing about starting your new job and missing Bradley so much you occasionally thought you might cry. 

Before he left, he told you he wasn't sure if or when he'd be able to communicate with you from the aircraft carrier. He told you he knew you were smart and strong and could handle everything without him. He promised he would be back home before you knew it. You laughed softly as you sprawled out on the couch and chewed on a purple Skittle. He didn't know what he was talking about. 

Tears stung at your eyes again. He had only been gone about a week, and when Noah was asleep or at daycare, you started to dread the feeling of loneliness that you knew would come. Starting your job would help, hopefully. You should really take the time to get the rest of your stuff from your rental, not that there was much left. Just some textbooks, clothing, and kitchen gadgets. But you already decided that when Bradley got home, you would have all of your stuff here with you. You'd tell him you were completely moved in when you picked him up. 

"Princess?" Noah called from the hallway, and you jumped up from the couch so quickly, Skittles went flying. 

"What's wrong?" you asked, rushing to him. You scooped him up into your arms and examined his face, but he looked fine.

"When's Daddy coming home?" He buried his face against your neck and whined softly. "I miss him."

"Soon," you lied, carrying him out to the couch, accidentally smashing some Skittles into the area rug on the way. "He won't be gone very long. But we've been having a lot of fun together, right?"

You sat with him on your lap, and he nodded as you wiped a tear away. Now you couldn't tell if you missed Bradley more or if Noah did. "Yeah," he agreed, hugging you around your neck. 

"Just look at us," you whispered with a soft laugh. "We're the same." You held him close as he snuggled against you. "I have an idea for tomorrow. We can go for a hike around the block and then go grocery shopping. And I have a fun treat I can make for you."

"Ants on logs?" he asked with a yawn. 

"Even more exciting. I'll make you some peanut butter snails."

Noah nodded without any further questions, and soon he was sound asleep with his chubby cheek pressed to your shoulder. His soft, even breathing and the little puffs of his breath against your skin made you feel a lot better, and you held him on the couch for a long time.

The next morning, it felt like you had barely slept when your alarm went off to wake you up so you could take Noah to daycare. Mornings were a lot easier when Bradley was home and you didn't have to worry about doing everything by yourself. 

"Let's get you dressed," you muttered, yanking Noah's shirt on and pulling it into place. "And brush your teeth," you added, hauling him into the bathroom. You managed to brush your teeth as well, and while he ate some fruit and cereal, you got dressed in Bradley's gray sweatpants and an old shirt of his. 

You looked like a mess, but you also knew that you'd be late for dropoff if you took too much longer. Since you'd been driving the Bronco around all week, you took Noah by the hand and led him outside and into the backseat. You liked driving it, and it smelled like Bradley. His favorite radio station came on when you turned the key in the ignition, and you hummed along to oldies as you drove down your street. Your street. 

Oh. Well that was a thought. You really hadn't considered the street with your little rental as your home in a while. You'd hardly been there at all for the past few months. And now the urge to sell your few pieces of furniture and call your landlord about your lease was making you excited. 

"What are peanut butter snails?" Noah asked from the back as you pulled into the daycare parking lot. 

"Hey, I thought you fell asleep last night when I mentioned those!" you said, tickling him as you scooped him out of his carseat. "They are made out of apples, and you're going to absolutely love them."

When you carried him inside, there was a girl your age who you'd never seen before working at the checkin area. "Hey, Noah," she said sweetly as she appraised you. "Where's your daddy? I was hoping to see him."

You smirked at her, fighting the urge to laugh. You wondered if this girl tried to flirt with Bradley when he walked Noah in. Maybe she thought his charming old man tendency of writing checks to the daycare was cute. You wondered how long she'd had an obvious crush on him, because she looked pretty damn annoyed to see you here today.

Oh, the things that came to your mind about your boyfriend as you stood there were absolutely indecent. If he knew this girl had a crush on him, he'd probably try to laugh it off before fucking you into the mattress after Noah went to sleep for the night.

You were weighing your words carefully, trying to decide how to respond when Noah said, "This is my babysitter. She sleeps in my Daddy's bed. And she calls him Daddy, too!" His smile was bright as he slung his arms around your neck and hugged you. 

A startled laugh escaped your lips, and the girl in front of you abruptly stopped grinning. "Oh. Well, that's nice," she mumbled. 

"It is," you agreed. "It's very nice. Have a great day, Noah." You kissed him goodbye and let him walk into the playroom. 

When the other girl picked up a clipboard and handed it to you to sign, she said, "I'm just used to Lieutenant Bradshaw in the morning."

"Mmm," you hummed as you signed your name next on the line that said Noah Bradshaw. "And I'm used to him all day long."

This time she scowled. "Don't forget, you'll need to be on the list and have your photo ID to sign him out later."

You bestowed your kindest smile on her. "Perfect. See you this afternoon."

And then you swung by your rental on your way back home.

--------------------------

Every day was the same on the aircraft carrier, and there were no days off. Lectures and flight training were pretty much it. Bradley had no idea how things were going at home, and he hadn't had the opportunity to talk to you at all. A few short emails had been exchanged, in which he'd been able to make sure you and Noah were okay, but that was the extent of things. 

He didn't have any friends on this deployment, and he didn't really feel like making any either. The other aviators were all from Lemoore and seemed chummy with each other. His bunkmate, Carl, was usually out of the room, too. It didn't matter though, he just spent his free time working out and looking at the collection of polaroids you packed in his bag along with a note. 

Daddy,

I love this old camera I found in your attic. I'd love it even more if you were the one taking the photos instead of me. When you get home, maybe I can model for you? Let you take some new photos before you fuck me? 

I love you,

Princess

Bradley groaned every time he took the note out and read it. Things were so bad at times, he started to get hard just looking at your handwriting. And then he'd think about you, posing for him in some of your cute underwear or nothing at all. And then he'd spread the photos out on his bunk, unzip his uniform pants and take matters into his own hands. 

One night after dinner, he intended to go to the gym, but he ended up here again, next to his bunk with his pants unzipped. "Fuck," he grunted, holding the photo of you that he favored the most. You were laying in his four poster bed, and he could see your purple crown hanging from one of the corners. Your pretty tits were on display, and your hand was tastefully covering your pussy. But he already knew how every inch of you looked and tasted and smelled, and he loved using his imagination. 

He jerked off thinking about how he was going to make you squirt on his face as soon as he got back home. He thought about the way you gripped him so tight when he was fucking you from behind. And he looked at that photo and the sweet, faux innocence on your face. "Come on, baby," he groaned, stroking himself faster now. 

Then he heard a key in the door, and he shouted, "Shit! Wait a minute!"

He came in his own hand and on the undershirt that was on his bed. It felt so fucking good to get off, but now he was scrambling to clean everything up. Fucking Carl, that fucking asshole. Bradley hastily put his photos away and dumped the undershirt in with the rest of his dirty clothes. He would have to work on his laundry tomorrow anyway. 

His cheeks felt flushed and he was uncomfortable as he zipped up his pants, but he forced himself to open the door and face Carl. "Hey," Bradley grunted, letting the other man inside. "I'm heading out."

"Cool," Carl returned with a smirk. Bradley slipped past him and went to walk a lap around the ship, hoping the mixed feeling of embarrassment and arousal would dissipate soon. 

Just a few more weeks of this. Hopefully.

---------------------------

Tomorrow was your first day of work, and you were so ready to go. But you decided to use this last day to really get organized. Noah was at daycare, and you had a plethora of fruit and vegetables lined up on the counter along with raisins and some peanut butter. You and he were going to spend the whole evening making different animals out of the food. You even bought some celery, although you had your doubts that Noah would eat it.

But for now, you were shuttling your textbooks all neatly organized in crates up to the attic. After a few trips, you were sweating a lot. You left your water downstairs, so you just decided to chill for a minute next to one of the boxes of Noah's baby items. You'd spend so much time cleaning and organizing the mess up here, you'd probably be able to locate things faster than Bradley could. 

"Adorable," you whispered as you opened the box and pulled out some baby clothes. There was a onesie with an airplane print, and pajamas that said I Love Daddy. Actually, most of the tiny clothing had an aviation theme or gave a shout out to dad. Bradley must have purged everything else, and that thought made you smile. There were some photo albums that you flipped through that made you squeal with delight. 

Baby Noah was even chubbier and cuter than you could have imagined. Now you were curious if there were any baby photos of Bradley around. If you and he had a child together, would they be as sweet and cute as Noah? Your mind was swirling with the possibilities as you dug deeper. There was another small photo album, Noah's first birthday shirt, and a soft blanket. All that was left in the bottom of the box was a rattle that was shaped like a puppy and two USB flash drives.

You shook the rattle a few times before tossing it back inside the box, and when you stood to go back downstairs and get your water, you took the USB drives with you. Now that all of your textbooks and other random things were tucked away in the front corner of the attic, you took a minute to make a sandwich.

Convinced the blue and yellow flash drives had more cute Noah photos on them, you turned on Bradley's laptop while you ate lunch at the kitchen table. Once it booted up, you selected the yellow one and inserted it. And you were right. There were hundreds of photos here, all organized into folders. You knew Bradley must have taken the time to do this, although there were a handful of pictures that had Meredith in them. 

You cringed when you looked at her. She didn't even look as excited for tiny, sweet Noah as Bradley did. Because in every single image you scrolled through, Bradley's face was lit up by a huge smile. He was impossibly handsome, and he clearly loved being a dad. 

You knew he wanted another baby while Noah was still young. He wasn't shy about telling you that. You wanted it, too. It was hard not to think about raising Noah together along with another little one. Bradley wanted to spoil you and Noah both, and he did so at every opportunity you gave him. A credit card, access to his whole house, free reign to do whatever you wanted. He even offered to help you pay back your student loans. But you were just starting out in your career now, and maybe it wasn't the right time. 

But you could still picture a baby here with the three of you so easily, and you loved thinking about it. The idea lingered as you removed the yellow USB drive and replaced it with the blue one. This time you found a video and a collection of photos. The first image made your stomach turn. It was a selfie of Meredith with Bradley's arm around her that must have been at least five years old. Bradley looked younger, the touch of wrinkles around his eyes and mouth was missing. But he looked happy. And you couldn't help yourself. You opened another photo thumbnail. 

You gasped. Bradley must have taken this one. Meredith sprawled out in the bed you now slept in. She was naked and touching herself, looking right at the camera. Looking right at you. Her fingers were on her breast and closely trimmed pubic hair. She was stunning. Older. She looked more comfortable in her skin than you thought you ever could. She looked confident, and you felt jealous and sick and upset. 

But you clicked on the icon for the video anyway. 

Of course the volume on the laptop was turned way up since you'd never bothered to lower it after listening to music yesterday. So you got to hear loud and clear all those noises you were so used to from Bradley. But it was Meredith making him feel good. Not you.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned in the video, adjusting the camera to show Meredith in bed with her lips wrapped around his cock. You could see the pleasure on his face before the camera turned back to her, and she looked all too happy to be sucking him off. 

She giggled, and it sounded revolting. Your stomach churned as she whispered, "Do you like it? Does it feel so good?"

You covered your mouth with both hands as you made a pathetic noise. Because Bradley in the video was all perfect, flexing muscles and beautiful scars as he propped the phone up and pushed Meredith onto her back. You wanted to close the computer or break it in half, but you couldn't remove your fingers from your mouth. You watched Bradley fuck Meredith, her back arched as he wrapped his hands around her waist. You watched his body that you knew so well bring her pleasure. 

He leaned down to kiss her, and she gripped his biceps until it looked like she was going to break his skin with her nails. "Bradley," she whined, and you thought you were going to be sick right here.

Then Bradley fucked her harder and grunted, "Oh, Babe. I love you."

Bile was rising up to your throat as you finally yanked the USB drive from the computer and let it clatter to the floor. And you barely made it to the toilet before you threw up your sandwich.

You were shaking as you curled up on the cold tile floor. It felt good against the burn of your skin and your hot embarrassment. That wasn't meant for you, and you knew it. You had every opportunity to turn it off, but you didn't. Meredith was sexy and sophisticated looking, and even though you knew that happened years ago, you had nothing to compare it to. You felt like a little kid right now, with only your previous relationship with Greyson to show for yourself. 

And all you could see in your mind was Bradley fucking Meredith and telling her he loved her. She left him and Noah in the dust, and then she tried to take Noah away from him. But he had actually at one time loved her.

An hour later, you took your photo ID in with you to pick Noah up, but the girl from earlier wasn't there. An older woman matched up the name on your driver's license with her list, and then she brought Noah out to you. The sick feeling from earlier persisted, and you were hoping that as soon as you saw Noah, it would start to get better. But it got worse, and tears stung your eyes. 

"Hey, sweet Noah," you whispered as he made a beeline for your open arms, and you held him because you knew that's what he expected. He only knew love from you, and you never wanted that to change. You never wanted to be like Meredith. 

But intrusive thoughts took over your mind as you drove him home to all of the produce on the kitchen counter. You turned the apples into snails and the bananas into boats, and Noah even tried some celery as he laughed. You tried to put on a playlist to keep your mind at ease, but you couldn't help it. You could still picture the video. And you should have known Bradley and Meredith used to be in love, but the idea never really stuck in your mind until you heard him say it. 

You were standing there feeling like a knockoff version of what Bradley really wanted when Noah turned and looked up at you from the stool he was standing on. "Want one?" he asked, handing you an apple wedge covered in peanut butter and some coconut flakes. 

"Thanks," you whispered, kissing the top of his head as you took the apple and nibbled on it. 

But he was still looking up at you with his big, curious brown eyes. "Are you my mommy now?"

You fumbled the apple slice and it landed on the counter. Your lips parted wordlessly, but he was waiting for an answer. This child literally had no mother at all. Not anymore. But you wanted more than anything to become his mom. You already loved him, and taking care of him was one of the highlights of your day. 

"Hopefully someday," you whispered, "because I love you, Noah."

He picked up the apple and handed it to you once more. "I know. And I want you to be my mommy."

You couldn't get another word out as you chewed up the apple and tried not to cry, so you just hugged him tight. 

-------------------------------

Bradley hated being away from home now that you were there. If this is how deployments were going to be if you and he married or had another kid, he didn't know how he was going to manage it. He felt a little on edge. If he were home, he'd put Noah in bed and share a bottle of wine and some Skittles with you on the couch. 

You always tried to tell him which flavor of the candy went with which type of wine. As he walked back to his bunk from the gym, he could practically hear you telling him that red Skittles went with merlot. He couldn't remember if you said yellow went with chardonnay or pinot grigio, but he was certain that purple went with pinot noir. He fucking missed you so much. Just you and Noah, on his mind, all the time. 

He would go back to his bunk, get his polaroids out and jerk it before he took a shower and went to bed, dreaming of your voice. After he made sure the door was locked, he spread the photos out on his bunk and untied his gym shorts. It didn't take long before he started to get hard, but then he realized his favorite photo was missing. That one of you in bed. 

"The fuck?" he asked out loud, turning to look at Carl's empty bunk. There was no way. He secured his gym shorts again before rooting around in his own belongings for a few minutes. He checked under the beds and inside all of his drawers. But he came up short. He didn't really want to have to threaten Carl, but he knew he was going to have to. Because that would be beyond fucked up.

--------------------------

Ouch. And what the fuck did Carl do? Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 31

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

[hannahbarberra162]

Under the Microscope, Part 5 (Yandere Sabo x Reader)

on Ao3

All the other chapters

You meet Ace over dinner. Sabo makes a snail call.

You didn’t react when Sabo mentioned Ace’s name, just continued trudging behind him. Interesting, even before his execution, Ace's name brought a certain amount of curiosity and notoriety. You were trying to take in information about the island as you walked along the path to the house.  There was no point, it was a small uncharted island in the middle of nowhere, no one could find it without a permanent log pose. It was an autumn island but was currently in its spring season. Sabo liked the island a lot and had been enjoying the little time he was able to spend on it. If Sabo hadn’t had to leave all the time for missions, he would have loved to spend his time on the island. It had a natural waterfall and small freshwater lagoon, some wildlife, and a lot of shady trees and vegetation.  You were looking at some of the wildflowers that had grown along the side of the beaten path to the house. You raised your hands as if to magnify a purple flower but stopped yourself, finally noticing that Sabo was watching you.

"It's a little chilly out, would you like my jacket?" Sabo suggested. You shook your head to decline his offer.

“What were you doing about a year and a half ago?” Sabo asked you. You scrunched your little nose in thought, eyebrows drawn.

“Working,” you replied quietly, not giving any further detail. Ah, you were wary of him now that you felt better and were on land. It was a reasonable reaction to have, Sabo didn’t mind. You didn’t see the bigger picture, didn't understand the plans Sabo had for you. Anyone would be upset by a drastic change, especially one they didn’t plan themselves. 

The island was a perfect place for you to stay for the time being. You would be safe, unable to be tracked by the Marines. Sabo knew they would try to find you, bring you back to their base, and he couldn’t let that happen. As a bonus, there was no one else to talk to on the island besides him and his brother. You would get over your fear and nervousness of him if you had no one else to interact with. If he’d taken you back to the RA headquarters, he knew you’d be a companion to Koala, make friends with Betty and Lindbergh, and he just knew Iva would love you. So for now you needed to stay isolated with them on the island. They’d all get to know you in a few months when Sabo brought you to Momoiro. He knew you were lonely, you’d gravitate to him and Ace sooner or later. Sabo knew Ace would like you, he just had to get over some of his…issues. Sabo planned to keep you here until you’d accepted your situation - and him. 

“Are you familiar with Marineford?” Sabo asked.

“Um, the new one or the old one? I know the old one was destroyed and Whitebeard and Gol D. Roger’s son were killed there but I never caught up completely on the news.” You started wringing your hands, Sabo noticed, as if you were worried about being caught. “I was supposed to but I had a lot to do and I was busy -”

“Researching,” Sabo said, finishing your sentence for you. Your face soured, but Sabo wasn’t making fun of you, you were as dedicated to your field as he was to his own. Making your way to the little house Sabo shared with Ace, he held open the unlocked door for you. It was dark inside, all the curtains drawn, the air musty and stale. Ah, Ace must be stewing again. At least it was warm inside, you were only wearing Sabo’s old tunic.

“Ace, c’mere, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he called out into the darkness. Sabo moved towards the curtains and you moved along with him. You looked like you were scared that someone was going to pop out of the shadows. Sabo slowed down so you’d bump into him while you looked around. It was foolish, but he relished any contact he could have with you. “Aaaaaaace,” Sabo called out in a sing-song voice, “where aaaaaaare youuuuu?” Sabo opened one of the curtains, sunlight now pouring into the room. You yelped as you saw Ace, slouching on the couch, arms folded and frowning, staring silently at you. You bumped back into Sabo again, this time he reached out and held your upper arm for ‘support.’

“Ace, stop moping for a few minutes. We have a guest.” Sabo stood behind you, almost presenting you to his brother. Ace glared at you, still silent. “Oh, don’t be mad. It’s time you saw someone other than me,” Sabo said, rolling his eyes. Ace leaned forward, stood up, and left the house, slamming the door behind him, making you jump again. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back when he gets hungry,” Sabo said, patting your shoulder. 

Your POV

You weren’t worried whether Sabo’s brother would be back or not. He scared the shit out of you, sitting there in the darkness, staring at you. He didn’t bear a lot of physical resemblance to Sabo, but the staring reminded you of Sabo. Ace had long, wavy black hair, reaching past his shoulder blades. It looked unkempt, like he hadn’t brushed it in a long time. He was wearing a Wano style yukata, with no shirt underneath. He had a lot of bandages over his chest, nearly the entire area was covered. 

“Ace has been having a…rough time,” Sabo hedged. “But he’s actually really nice. You’ll like him, he’s like me in a lot of ways.” You weren’t sure you liked Sabo , much less Ace, but you didn’t voice that thought out loud. You appreciated Sabo’s kindness when you were ill, but you’d been fine without his help, and you definitely didn’t want to be kidnapped. If your meeting with Sakazuki had gone well, you were expecting a promotion and transfer to another base. But now you weren’t sure you’d ever see anyone besides Sabo and his brother ever again.

Sabo opened more of the curtains and windows, letting in the fresh air. “Much better,” he said to himself. Turning to you, he clapped his hands together with a smile. “Let’s give you a tour of the house, yes?” Sabo led you through the house, starting with the living room. The living room, kitchen, Sabo’s office and a bathroom were all on the first floor while closets, another bathroom, and the two bedrooms were on the second. It was clear people were living there, but there was something missing. The house wasn’t decorated at all, no photos, no art, nothing to make it a home. It felt like a hospital room, it had the basic necessities but nothing personal. 

“You’re welcome in any unlocked room of the house, you live here now. That room,” he said, pointing to a closed door, “is Ace’s.” It looked like the door had been kicked and stabbed a few times. “This one,” Sabo gestured to another door on the right, “is ours.” 

“W-what do you mean ours ?” you stammered, suddenly uncomfortable. You knew you were wearing Sabo’s clothes on Sabo’s island, but you hadn’t thought he would be so…forward. You were abruptly reminded of the differences in your heights, weights, and fighting abilities. You took a step back, but Sabo took one forward, keeping you near him.

“Our room,” Sabo said slowly, as if you were confused about the meaning of his words. “We were already sharing a room on the ship and I thought it worked out well. Besides, there aren’t any more rooms or any other houses on the island. I’m not saying we have to share the same bed, ” Sabo said, rolling his eyes. You hadn’t given much thought to where Sabo had been sleeping on the ship, but you supposed you’d been sharing a room in some way.

“Oh, um, ok. I can, um, sleep on the floor. I don’t mind,” you offered. Sabo balked at your statement.

“We’ll figure it out later,” he said dismissively. Something told you that you wouldn’t be sleeping on the floor. “Now, let’s get some food going. I’m worried about you after that trip. We need to get you healthier, starting with proper nutrition.” Sabo was so serious at that moment, like he was considering all the ways he could help you feel better. He did also cause some of your problems, but you didn’t think he wanted to hear that. 

Sabo brought you to the small kitchen and guided you to the chairs. The kitchen had bar style seating overlooking the main cooking area, complete with barstools. Sabo opened cabinets and drawers, taking stock of the food that was left. Earlier, when Sabo took off your blindfold, you saw that there were crates being unloaded as well, so you knew there would be more food. You hoped Sabo was a good cook, it wasn’t really your forte. You could make a few dishes very well, but were content to eat whatever the mess hall cooked. You found cooking boring and didn’t like spending your time on it. Sabo had his back turned to you, filling a pitcher of water from a barrel. He set it in front of you, along with a cup.

“Here, sit and drink some water. I’ll cook.” You sat at his command, watching him in silence. Sabo started removing some of his layers in preparation for cooking, putting his jacket on the back of the chair next to you. He didn’t take off his gloves, though, even after rolling up his sleeves to cook. Sabo took off his top hat, looking for a place to put it. He reached over, and put it on your head with an unblinking stare and a smile. You paused mid-sip, unsure what to do. You felt like a wild animal that had been sighted by a hunter. You reached up and took the hat off your head, placing it on the counter next to you. Sabo gave a nervous laugh.

“Sorry, I was just trying to be silly. Looks good on you, though.” Sabo brushed off the strange interaction and started pulling out ingredients from the cabinets. He was talking to you, almost monologuing, as you sipped your water and listened, hands shaking slightly. You were feeling unprotected and exposed, fully at the mercy of the Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army. Sabo didn’t notice, and kept up the one sided conversation while preparing what looked like stew. As he prepared the food, your mouth watered. Sabo may have kidnapped you and brought you to a secluded island, but he could make a delicious smelling stew. 

“-found this island by accident, and I ended up living here over the past year. It’s quaint and out of the way, which I like. I actually prefer spring islands, but this one is nice too. Ace has also been here for about a year, recovering. We’re not actually -”

The door banged open, making you startle again. You were getting tired of Ace scaring you, it made you even more anxious than you already were. You had to put down the cup you’d been holding your hands were so unsteady. Ace stalked over to the counter, sitting at the next bar stool. He moved Sabo’s hat from in front of his seat to the couch rather delicately, you noticed. He frowned at you but didn’t say anything.

“Welcome back, Ace. Want some food?” Sabo ladeled some incredible smelling stew over rice, handing the bowl to Ace. Ace grunted, and started shoveling it in with a spoon. Literally shoveling. “We’ll do introductions after you’ve eaten,” Sabo declared. Ace barely looked up from his food. Sabo handed another bowl to you.

“For you, Mag - er - what should I call you now? I know you asked me not to call you by that atrocious nickname anymore.” You took the bowl and set it down, thinking. You didn’t want him to know your real name, to know even more information about you than he already did.

“Um, I’m not -” 

Sabo cut you off, smiling. “How about Sunshine?” Sabo was clearly excited about this idea, but you couldn’t understand the nickname. Was he making fun of you?

“Sunshine? Why Sunshine?” You gave him a distrustful look. 

“Because you make my day brighter!” Sabo said with a grin. That earned another grunt from Ace, who looked like he was about to pass out face down. Even though you were at his mercy, you didn’t like Sabo mocking you.

“I don’t think so, I don’t - I don’t do that. That’s not me.” You looked down at your stew, not wanting to meet his gaze. You felt a leather glove underneath your chin, pulling your head up to look at Sabo, who had a fond look on his face. 

“It’s true. You are my sunshine. You’ll believe me eventually.” Sabo rubbed his thumb over your cheek, then let go. You felt confused. You liked Sabo - well, had liked Sabo - but this was too much for you. You were his only romantic choice on the island, that was probably why he was doing weird things. You ignored it for now. 

“Now then, Ace, this is Sunny. Sunny, this is Ace,” Sabo said, taking the seat on your other side. You were in between the two brothers and it was uncomfortably silent.

“Ace, say hello. Don’t be rude,” Sabo said in a clipped tone. You could tell Sabo was getting annoyed, and that made you worried. You’d never seen Sabo mad before, but you could tell it wasn’t something you wanted to see. Ace still didn’t say anything, steadfastly staring at his bowl as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Pardon us for a moment,” Sabo said to you, smiling. With that, he walked around you and grabbed Ace by the ear. Sabo yanked him backwards off the stool, causing Ace to yelp and stumble. Sabo didn’t let go and dragged a floundering Ace out the door, slamming it behind them. You heard a muffled Sabo talking to his brother, mentioning something about manners and hospitality. You finally heard Ace’s voice as he shouted back at his brother. 

“FINE!” Ace yelled at Sabo, opening the door again. He gave you a once over, like he was finally seeing you.

“I’m Ace. Nice to meet you,” he grumbled, inclining his head slightly. He sat back down next to you and picked his spoon back up.

“I’m, uh, Sunny, I guess?” You’d go with Sabo’s cringey suggestion for now. You didn’t think he knew your identity and you weren’t going to provide it. 

“Great! Now we all know each other. I met Sunny at Bayonette -”

“You kidnapped me from Bayonette,” you interjected quietly. You weren’t going to let him forget that you weren’t here voluntarily. 

“You a Marine?” Ace asked, still watching his food.

“Yes,” you replied.

“No,” Sabo replied at the same time. “She was a Marine, but no longer.” You looked at Sabo curiously. Sometimes the way he spoke reminded you of nobles you’d met a few times. But you didn’t know any nobles who joined the Revolutionary Army. It was probably just a quirk, like his suits and top hat. Ace finished his stew and got off his chair.

“See ya around,” he said, going to his room and shutting the door behind him.

Sabo POV

Ace was being annoying but the introduction had actually gone better than Sabo had expected. Ace hadn’t seen anyone besides Sabo since they’d come to live on the island together over a year ago. It was time for Ace to start reacclimating to society, starting with meeting new people. When he met you, he knew you’d be a good person for Ace to befriend. You were smart but oblivious, kind but reserved, intelligent but humble, similar qualities to those Ace had. Since Marineford, Ace’s self confidence and self worth issues had increased exponentially. Sabo tried talking to him about it but he could tell that Ace wasn’t taking to heart what Sabo said. Maybe if he heard it from someone else he would actually listen.

You were still eating, but Sabo unfortunately had work to do before the end of the day. All part of being second in command of an army, he supposed. 

“Stay here and finish your food,” Sabo declared, pouring you another cup of water. “I have to make a call in my office, it shouldn’t take too long. When you’re done eating, feel free to explore the house or the island. If you’re cold, there’s more clothes in our room. Wear anything you want.” Sabo said, putting a hand on your back. You looked up at him like a little lamb, large eyes so innocent and lost. He wanted to wrap you up in his arms and kiss you, but he knew it wasn’t the time. He had nearly lost his self control when he saw you in his hat, picturing you riding his cock wearing it and nothing else. He’d get some physical contact with you again tonight, after you slept. You’d be sharing a bed, whether you knew it or not. 

Sabo left you and walked briskly to his office, needing to call Dragon. He’d delayed calling for a while, wanting to get his thoughts in order before calling his boss. Sabo didn’t like doing anything impulsively, he preferred to plan meticulously and strategically. He needed to ensure Dragon saw the benefit of having you as an RA asset, rather than some woman he grabbed for comfort. He woke the white den den mushi and started placing his call.

Puru puru puru puru puru puru…

Dragon picked up on the second ring. 

“It’s Sabo. Mission ‘Bastille’ completed, with a deviation in plans.” He knew Koala would have informed Dragon already but he wanted the boss to hear it from him as well.

“Welcome back. Go on.” 

“No further research will be completed on the project, permanently. I was not able to destroy the base as desired but will return at a later date to do so.”

“Why? You were there long enough.”

“A complication arose. I captured the lead scientist, she was working alone. She remains with me at the current time. She could be a critical asset for the RA.” Sabo didn’t actually care if Dragon approved or not, but his life would be easier if he did. Dragon didn’t answer so Sabo continued.

“I believe her to be the scientist behind Project Angel. Her area of expertise and writing style suggest it. She could continue innovation on the project, perhaps to completion.” Sabo let it drop, he knew Dragon well enough to know he was thinking over the proposition. The line went silent for 30 seconds. 

“Gain her confidence, have her work on furthering the project. She may remain in your custody as long as you believe her research to be credible. A ship will be sent to your location.” Sabo smiled to himself. Dragon was hooked, as Sabo knew he’d be. He knew dropping his thoughts about your involvement with Project Angel was enough to show your usefulness. Sabo wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, no matter what the outcome of the conversation was, but he wanted to provide you with purpose. You could serve the Revolutionary Army, at least from afar. Sabo wasn’t surprised Dragon ordered him to the base, but also wasn’t happy about it. He would have to leave you on the island with Ace for a few weeks. But, it would give the two of you time to bond and enjoy each other’s company. Ace, despite his vocal objections, craved human comfort and contact, which you would provide to him. 

Sabo’s heart felt lighter, despite the news of upcoming travel, as he hung up the snail. He wrote a few notes on some reports, read through a note or two and then decided to leave for the night. He left the office door ajar purposefully. He knew you were hiding in the bathroom and listening in, but he wanted to see what you would do. He went from the office to your shared room to freshen up the linens and prepare the room for the night. And to watch you, of course.

Your POV

After your dinner, you’d gone to the restroom near Sabo’s office. You hadn’t been planning on snooping ( again…) but while coming out, you heard yourself being mentioned in conversation. You would need to gather all the information you could if you wanted to escape the island. You heard the tail end of Sabo’s conversation with…Dragon? Obviously, if Sabo was second in command, the only person who could give him orders was the Supreme Commander, Dragon. You were just surprised to hear the deep voice coming out of the snail, you couldn’t imagine any other Marine had heard it and lived. 

Sabo said you had been involved in ‘Project Angel,’ but you weren’t sure what that was. You’d never worked on anything with that name, but maybe the RA gave their own code names to Marine projects. You weren’t generally working on complete projects, just given assignments that didn’t always link together. How did they know about your work anyway? How did Sabo know your writing style? None of it was published, it was all classified information that only top Marines had access to. 

Your stomach soured as you heard Dragon confirm the conclusion you’d already drawn yourself. Sabo wanted you to work for them, maybe on the assignment you had been assigned when Sabo kidnapped you. Dragon had given him direct orders to get you to complete work for them by gaining your confidence. No wonder Sabo had started touching you and put his hat on your head. He was trying to endear himself to you by any means necessary. You distantly wondered if any of it was real or if it was all engineered to make you fall for him. Anything for the cause, you supposed. You felt dejected, cast aside yet again. 

During your stay on the ship, you’d gotten too comfortable with Sabo, relying on him time and time again. Well, no longer. You were determined to get off the island, get back to the Marines and never see Sabo ever again. Besides, you had started worrying about your family again. They might have heard news that you were kidnapped, which would devastate them. Even more than that, you were anxious about what would happen to them now that your paychecks wouldn’t be coming in. You hadn’t worked for the Marines long enough to have a pension, only a small payout if you died in the call of duty. But since you weren’t confirmed dead, your family wouldn’t be eligible. You chewed on your cuticle as you thought of your sister with EDS, your overworked mother, and your younger siblings. You would either have to escape soon or come up with another way to get money to them. 

You heard Sabo leave the office, the door left open. He did say you could go into any unlocked room in the house. If he didn’t want you going to his office, he would have told you it was off limits or locked it. Peeking out of the door, you made sure Sabo wasn’t there. You darted from the bathroom to the office as quickly as you could. The office was the same as it was when he gave you the house tour in the afternoon. It was small but cozy, with an overstuffed loveseat against one wall, and a large desk that took up most of the space in the room. On the desk were many papers in different piles, sorted by category. There were piles of books and articles about Devil Fruits, some old newspaper clippings, and letters and reports related to the RA. In the corner of the desk was an old photo of him and Ace as kids, with another young boy. That must be the third brother Sabo mentioned once. They looked happy, all their faces squished together smiling. Sabo was wearing a smaller version of the same hat, and he and Ace had lead pipes. It made you think about your own siblings. You chewed on your nail as your hand shook.

On the opposing corner was the snail that Sabo had used to call Dragon. It looked different than snails you’d seen before. You’d never been given your own Marine snail, you just used the office one when you needed to make any calls. Creeping over to the sleeping snail, you put your shaking hand out to wake it up. Maybe you could call your base and tell them that you were alive? Let them know where you were? You were nervous, scared that Sabo would find you and punish you for trying to call for help.

Putting your shaking hand on the snail’s shell, it woke up and waited for you to make a call. You wavered back and forth, unsure what to do. Ultimately, you pulled your hand back, the snail returning to slumber. You didn’t want to waste a good opportunity when you didn’t have information. You didn’t know where you were or any coordinates that could help them find you. The call could be traced but only if you were able to stay on the line for 3 minutes or longer, which you didn’t think you could do without Sabo finding out. No, you’d wait to make a call when you thought it more advantageous. Maybe Ace could be tricked into giving you more information.

Sabo POV

Sabo was proud of you. He knew it wasn’t fair to test you, he knew you were still unsure of what his intentions were. After overhearing his phone call with Dragon, surely you understood that Sabo respected you for your abilities, not just your looks. He watched you extend a shaking hand to the snail, even going so far as to wake it up. You didn’t know, but the snail would only call Dragon, it was a white den den mushi. Chewing your lip, you were at a crossroads but decided not to call. Sabo was happy to see that your trust in him was growing, that you didn’t immediately reach out for rescue. You were starting to accept your place with him and on the island. Maybe you thought to find out more information first, he mused, but Sabo wasn’t foolish. He would only leave the snail out this once, taking it with him when he had to leave. Ace had his own that could call Sabo, you’d be fine.

“Find anything interesting?” Sabo asked, making you squeak. He was leaning against the door jamb, watching you look at his desk. He felt bad for scaring you, but it was hard not to when everything made you jump.

“Oh, uh, n-no, nothing. Just, um, looking. I-it’s ok, right? You said I could?” If Sabo’s soldiers acted like you did when caught, he would send them all back to basic training. But in you it was endearing.

“Of course you can look. Anything that is accessible is available to you. It’s your house too,” Sabo said, smiling kindly at you. You were still nibbling on your lip, making Sabo want to do the same. “You look tired, would you like to go to sleep?”

You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes. Sabo knew you’d be tired since you drank 5 cups of the drugged water. He should tell Ace not to drink it, he thought, otherwise the lug would sleep even more than he already did. But that was tomorrow’s problem. 

“Come, I’ll show you the bedroom.” Sabo crossed the room and took you by the crook of your elbow before you could protest. Yes, it was 15 feet away, but Sabo wanted to touch you as much as he could. He guided you out of the office to your room. You poked your head in.

“There’s - there’s only one bed,” you sputtered. Sabo smiled, tightening his grip on your arm. 

________________________

@nymeriiiia